I'm feeling the vapors from this cockamamie ordeal
Peddling this ludicrous thing up a dark creepy hill
You think you're Frederic Chopin, or Liberace yet
Touring the countryside, yelling "pedal, Antoinette."
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Well, let me just enlighten you with a revelation or two
I ain't Antoinette and you ain't listed in whose who
With your rented tuxedo and that wig on your head
Living in this contraption and sipping Big Red
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People stare at us and shout" look at that thing"
It's a pencil cut in half, what a crazy, crazy scene
Then they holler out "sharpen it so it'll write"
As down the road we peddle, shadows of the night
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I'd erase the wheels and set your windmill free
Leave that blonde wig of yours hanging from a tree
But my seat is too numb and my legs are now sticks
So here we are; peas in a pod and shy a few bricks